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this afternoon for the first time since late November I have
stood by the tomb of my dear children I think I hear
there voice of affection whispering in my ears, I listen
to the voice of there wisdom speaking in the depth of soul
we shed our tears. but they are no longer the burning
tears of agony, they relieve our drooping spirits and come
no longer over us with a deathly faintness, after visit the
tomb I return to my chamber and hope that I feel
myself purer and better and wiser from this communion
with the dead, hear let youth and beauty, blighted by
premature decay, drop like tender blossoms, in the
virgin earth and here let age retire, ripened for the
harvest, O that I may come to the grave as a stock
of corn fully ripe